Then she pushed him gently into a chair, and kneeling beside him drew
his arm around her, resting her head against his in a fashion
inexpressibly tender. The natural dignity that was hers set a high
value on such sweet familiarities: and if Desmond submitted to them in
silence, it was because the man in him was too deeply moved for speech.

Then she told him, at some length, all that she had gleaned of the past
and present relations between Lenox and his wife.

"Now, do you see how I came to lose sight of everything for the time
being?" she concluded, smiling up at him. "So far as I can gather,
things seem to be at a deadlock, unless one can persuade him to take
the first step forward."

"And you want to play Providence, as usual? Is that it?"

"Don't laugh at me, Theo! I am in earnest. I would gladly move heaven
and earth to put things straight between them."

"But this seems a case of moving a Scot. A far tougher job, I can tell
you!"

"Well, I think I moved him a little to-night; and he is coming round
to-morrow for a ride." Desmond frowned; and she made haste to add;
"Now that is just where I must have your co-operation, Theo, or I can
do nothing. I want you to trust me, and give me a free hand for these
next few weeks. Will you, . . please?"

"Does that mean I am to let you be about with Lenox as much as you
choose?"

"Probably not more than I have been so far. I only want to be sure
that whatever I do you won't speak to me again as you did to-night."

She felt the muscles of his arm tighten.

"I think you may feel sure of that much," he said. "But you are asking
a very hard thing of me, Honor. Lenox is a thorough good chap; and I
don't want to be driven into disliking him. It isn't as if I were a
saint, like Paul. I'm just a man, and a grasping one at that! What's
more, I am very jealous for you; and I have the right to be. Society
doesn't recognise philanthropic motives. It takes you and your acts at
their face value . . ."

"I know, I know,"--she straightened herself impulsively; her hands
clasped, her bare arms laid across his knees. "And I'll be ever so
circumspect, dearest, I promise you. But oh, Theo, . . . don't you
understand? It is just because we are so blessedly happy, you and I,
that the thought of what those two foolish people are missing troubles
me so sorely."

Such an appeal was irresistible. They had lived deeply enough, these
two, to know the real importanc